My Cold Boss’s Secret Screen

I held my breath, watching the zipper go down inch by inch.

My eyes went wide.

I was twenty-four years old. I’d never seen anything like it.

I thought I'd seen it all. Erotica, dark web galleries—what hadn't I seen?

But when that thing actually appeared on screen, I shrieked and threw my phone onto the bed.

It hit the mattress with a thud.

"Mistress?!"

Cassius's panicked voice came through instantly.

"Mistress, what's wrong? Did I scare you? I'll stop..."

I covered my burning face, my chest heaving.

Oh my god.

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.

Was that thing real? Was it even human?

I took three deep breaths, but I couldn't cool my face down. In the mirror, I was as red as a boiled lobster.

No. I absolutely could not let him know I was flustered.

"Mistress?" He sounded frantic now. "Say something. Did I do something wrong?"

I grabbed the phone and immediately hung up the video.

Channeling every ounce of coldness in my body, I typed.

[Did you not finish puberty? The book boyfriends I read about are all 12 inches.]

Dead silence for five whole seconds.

Then, a voice note popped up. I tapped it.

"...Mistress," he sounded wounded, almost pleading. "Those books aren't real."

"My eight inches is already... already really good."

He paused, his voice dropping even lower.

"With your body, I was actually worried you couldn't take it."

My face burst into flames again.

This man—the Boss who terrorized Mafia executives and ended lives with a single word.

When talking about this with me, he sounded... worried?

I shook my head to snap out of the weird flutter in my chest.

No. I couldn't let him off easy. I was going to pay him back tenfold for how he humiliated me today.

I took a deep breath and typed furiously.

[I definitely can't take it. You're too old.]

[I want something pinker.]

[Maybe I should find a young boy toy to play with.]

The chat went dead quiet.

I stared at the screen, my heart racing.

Did I go too far? Saying that to a thirty-year-old man, especially a Mafia Don.

A second later, video call requests spammed my screen.

Once. Twice. Three times.

I declined all of them.

Then came the voice note bombardment.

I clicked the first one.

"Mistress."

Cassius's voice was shaking. Actually shaking.

"Whatever color you want, I can do it. Whatever shape you want... I'll get surgery."

"I'll go tomorrow."

"Whatever doctor you want from any country, I'll fly them in."

Second voice note.

"You can't abandon me, Mistress. Besides being a little older, I can fix everything else."

"I can't get my youth back, but... but I can keep you better than those boy toys."

"Whatever they give you, I'll give you ten times, a hundred times more."

By the third voice note, he was practically panting.

"Mistress... please. Don't find anyone else."

"I'll do whatever you say."

I leaned back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling, a grin spreading across my face.

This felt so fucking good.

The man who treated me like a dog this afternoon and threatened to send me to a fight club... was now willing to get surgery because he was afraid I didn't like his size.

But reality yanked me back.

I had to submit that restoration draft tomorrow. The one Cassius called trash. I had to pull an all-nighter to redo it.

I dropped the smile and replied.

[Depends on how you behave. I'm busy.]

He replied instantly.

"What's wrong, Mistress? Can I help? I'll do anything."

I bit my lip, an idea forming.

This was my chance.

[I pulled three all-nighters on a restoration. Then some bastard called it dog shit in public today. Now I have to do it all over again.]

His breathing shifted instantly.

"...Which blind fuck?" His voice went dead cold. Pure, undiluted rage.

"Who said that? Mistress, give me the address. I'm heading over with a gun right now."

"I'll make him kneel and apologize to you until his head bursts open."

I turned off the screen and laughed out loud.

Was he trying to meet me in person?

Little did he know, the bastard he was promising to murder... was himself.